The Collected Regrets of Clover

“Let’s see—we could compile the list of people you’d like us to notify and I can track down their contact details if you don’t have them.”

“Fortunately, that should be a relatively short task for us both,” Claudia said. “When you get to be ninety-one years old, most of your friends and acquaintances are dead.”

An echo of Leo’s lament. “That must be hard. But I imagine you’ve had some wonderful friendships over the years.”

“Some, yes. Others I wish I’d abandoned long before they dissipated naturally.” Her hand shook as she raised the teacup to her lips. “Another lesson for you, Clover—choose your friendships wisely. I’m sure you have flocks of friends at your age?”

I looked down at the iron lace of the garden table, embarrassed. “Not really—I guess you could say I’m a bit of a loner. Most people don’t really like being around someone who deals with death all the time.”

“A lone wolf, really?” Claudia leaned back, studying me. “I wouldn’t have guessed that given the lovely and amenable young lady that you are. My grandson in particular seems to have taken a shine to you.”

My stomach lurched. Was this a test? What had Sebastian told Claudia?

Better to play dumb.

“I guess I’ve just always preferred my own company,” I said, still rattled. “I was an only child, so I had to be content with my own thoughts most of the time.”

“And your parents didn’t encourage you to have playdates?”

“They died in an accident when I was six—that’s when I came to live with my grandfather here in the city.” I traced my finger over the metal pattern of the table.

“It must have been difficult growing up without a mother,” Claudia said in a way that I knew meant she was treading carefully. “Lord knows mine made my life difficult at times, but I can’t imagine what it would have been like without her.”

I shrugged. “We didn’t really spend a lot of time together before she died. It’s hard to miss something you never really had.”

“Well, I’m glad you had your grandfather.”

“Me too. He was a wonderful man,” I said. “But he was also kind of a loner—I probably learned it from him.”

“Children do tend to emulate the most influential figures in their lives.” Claudia reached out to pat my hand. “But he obviously did a great job raising his granddaughter. It’s no easy feat to raise a child, especially if you weren’t expecting to. I’m sure he would be very proud of you.”

“Thank you.” I felt the papery texture of Claudia’s skin as I clasped her fingers. “He did the best he could.”

I knew that was true. But as we sat watching the sparrows play in the garden, it reminded me how hard it would’ve been for Grandpa to have a six-year-old girl shoehorned into his life out of the blue. And it made me wonder if I was really living a life that would make him proud.

As I walked back to the subway later that afternoon, I thought about Claudia’s parents, and mine. While my mother had fulfilled the role of parent biologically, I don’t think she ever took to it instinctively. In the six years we had together, I couldn’t remember any signs of the tenderness and nurturing that mothers in movies seemed to exhibit so naturally. No warm hugs, no tying of hair ribbons, no baking of cupcakes. Sometimes I liked to imagine that she might’ve been that way if she’d been given the chance to blossom into motherhood. When you fantasize about something enough, it can almost feel like it’s true.

Grandpa had more than filled the role of father in my life—he had indelibly shaped the way I saw and experienced the world. But I often wondered what I had missed, growing up without a maternal figure. I probably still wouldn’t be any good at applying makeup, or care much about clothing, but would I be more attuned to my intuition? Or more comfortable with emotional expression?

Was I somehow less of a woman because I’d never had one to look up to?





28


“Don’t make my drink too strong, Leo.” I sat down at his dining table ready for our next bout of mahjong.

He bent industriously over his bar cart stirring a bourbon concoction, a wizard to his cauldron. Ice clinked against the glass like wind chimes. With a satisfied grin, he slid the drink in front of me, the comforting smell of bar soap radiating from his skin as it always did.

“How’s that new job of yours going?”

“Claudia? She’s a really interesting woman—reminds me of you, actually.”

Leo eyed me with a skeptical half smile. “A rich white woman on the Upper West Side reminds you of me?” His tone was playful but his message clear.

“Okay—I mean her cheeky sense of humor, yearning for the good old days, and love of bending the rules reminded me of you.”

“Well, of those qualities I’m guilty.” Leo sipped his drink, then smacked his lips a few times in deliberation. “A little too much lime, I think.”

I sipped mine cautiously. “I think it’s delicious.” I grinned at him. “Am I disappointing you with my less-than-discerning palate?”

“You’ll learn soon enough, my young protégée.”

I handed him the dice. “Your turn to roll first.”

Cupping them in his lithe hands, he shook the dice dramatically beside each ear as if rattling a coconut. “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with our new neighbor.”

He tossed the dice onto the table. A two and a four.

“Sylvie? Yeah, she’s really nice.” I collected the dice and shook them sideways in my palm. “We’ve hung out a couple of times—went for coffee, did a yoga class, she made me dinner—things like that.”

I dusted my hands with satisfaction as my toss revealed a five and a six. Leo shot me a mock glare.

“Sounds like a budding friendship, if you ask me.”

Self-consciousness set my cheeks aglow. “It’s probably too soon to call it that.” I hoped my shrug appeared sufficiently nonchalant.

“Well, I think Sylvie’s a great addition to the building.” Leo sipped his bourbon again. “Not least because she shares my love of neighborhood gossip.”

“So does that mean you won’t be talking my ear off so often about the neighborhood’s dirty secrets?”

“I know you just pretend to disapprove of it because your grandpa did. Of course, a gentleman like him would never engage in that kind of behavior. But you know what?” Leo leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I think deep down he enjoyed it as much as you do, but neither of you ever admitted it.”

I blushed. There were some benefits to getting the neighborhood news without having to make small talk with strangers.

“I miss him.”

“Me too,” Leo said. “Good old Patrick. Hard to believe it’s been thirteen years without him.”

Our game paused as we sat in reflection.

“Leo, did Grandpa ever talk to you about what it was like to have to raise me all by himself?” The ice cubes in my glass formed a lethargic whirlpool. “I mean, I was kind of thrust upon him out of nowhere. I think I’d only even met him twice before that.”

Leo’s eyes radiated a blend of empathy and sadness. He took a breath as if to say something and then retracted it before the syllables materialized. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him at a loss for words before.

After a slow sip, he spoke. “What makes you ask that?”

“Something Claudia said made me wonder. It must’ve been hard on him, having to deal with a six-year-old girl all of a sudden.” I put my glass down and examined the lines in my palms. “Do you think, maybe, I kind of … ruined his life?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I won’t lie to you—it was a real challenge for him sometimes. Just like raising a child is a challenge for any parent at one time or another.”

“Yeah, but most of the time they choose to have those kids.” I was ashamed that I’d never really thought about what it was like for him to suddenly be solely responsible for a little girl he hardly knew.

Leo glanced up at the ceiling as if conferring with a higher power.

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